


genterie

by Evren Rambunctious (DHume)



Series: Young Courtiers [2]
Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Evening gown abuse, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHume/pseuds/Evren%20Rambunctious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliza and Scorn have a little shared history, as it were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	genterie

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one of my works for China's pre-Valkyrie days! again, I only have the prolegomenon so far, but there's more to come.

It is 1921, and the autumn evening is crisp and clear. Men and women of all ages and builds are leaving the country mansion in couples, fur coats to ward off the air's chill covering sequinned slips and felt hats adorning pretty little heads.

The party is all but over and all the evening guests have left, but inside the hostess is screaming.

"I can't _believe_ that harlot! All of my weeks of preparation _ruined_ by a country bumpkin tart! A dress that cost the world and the most illustrious guestlist - but what is the point of it, I say? None, none at all! Not if that bloody woman will show up and enchant all of them! I may as well have been wearing peasants' rags!"

There is the sound of breaking glass as a priceless crystal carafe (one of the presents from the guests at tonight's birthday soiree) goes sailing off its perch on a sidetable and crunches onto the marble floor.

 

The angry hostess (for she has a name, and that name is Eliza Scorn) finishes pacing abruptly, her voluminous taffeta skirts swishing around as she comes to a stop in front of her impeccably dressed monochrome staff member. He is holding a calling card on a silver tray and wearing a sombre expression.

Eliza plucks the card from the gleaming tray - it's thick cardstock, an impossibly rich creamy white, and it is engraved with a scrolling, intricate symbol.

 

It is from China Sorrows, professional spotlight stealer and the harlot in question.

She will be arriving shortly. Eliza knows from experience that there is nothing she can do about it.

 

The help is still scooping up the shards of glass into a pan when she arrives, a vision of ice white satin and glacial inevitability. 

 

“Eliza, dearest, I just wanted to say-“

 

Instantly all of the angry heat floods from Eliza’s face, pink blotches (which would look unsightly on any other woman but only served to highlight Eliza’s cheekbones) disappearing. The anger moves to smoldering embers inside her chest and her expression is at once calm.

 

“Yes, China? I admit I was rather shocked to see you visiting so soon after tonight’s event is barely over. If it’s to do with any missing belongings, I’m sure the household could have handled it for you.”

Neither of them comments on the broken carafe as the strategic silence between them is broken only by the sound of moving glass.

 

“What I wanted to say, Eliza, is nothing short of a heartfelt apology for the frankly atrocious behaviour of those gentleman today. Why, I don’t know _what_ came over them, ignoring the birthday girl like that-“

 

She really is laying on the society talk thick, Eliza thinks. How quaint. How passive aggressive. She’d never been one for keeping her anger anything but active. It’s much healthier that way.

 

The silence continues until the man between them backs out of the room, the carafe’s messy remains in hand. As if a spell has lifted, Eliza allows her lip to curl the faintest amount into an invisible sneer, and takes a step forward until the red and white of their dresses - how could she wear white to Eliza’s own event, a mere guest! - mixes like blood and milk. China doesn’t flinch.


End file.
